


broken clocks

by dankobah



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Light politics, Politician!Ben, Sex Positive, Stripper!Rey, Strippers & Strip Clubs, lets get steamy folks, liberal wig use, rey loves her job, super light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-05-30 15:22:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15099551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dankobah/pseuds/dankobah
Summary: That’s why she was giving him the looks, and obviously vying to impress him.  He only notices it because Poe points it out.  “You get laid by a stripper, it’s legendary.  I will never stop telling the office.” Poe says, and Ben’s eyes roll.“Not happening.  It’s their job to flirt with patrons,” he answers.  He wasn’t an idiot.“Yeah, that’s why she’s got fuck me eyes on and sticks to this side of the stage.  You’re fucking obtuse, Solo.” Poe answers, standing up.





	1. hiiijack

 

“You’re on in 3 minutes.”

Blue hair whips over a shoulder, lip gloss wand in her hand as Jessika slides into the vanity next to her.  The girl begins to pat the sweat off her face.

“Nice wig.” Jessika then comments, looking Rey up and down in appreciation.  Green eyes roll and smooth out the long blue wig that was secured to her head. It hit her just above her ass, which was clad in a black two-piece lingerie set.  Black and leaving not much to the imagination, it’s something Rey hasn’t worn yet.

Every shift was a different look for her, based on the need for anonymity in their line of work.  She leans down, making sure her 6-inch platform heels are in place. “So there’s a bunch of business guys on the left side.  Lots of cash. Pay some attention to them.” Jessika argues, and Rey hops out of her chair. She leans to quickly peck her cheek.  

“Will do,” she mumbles, before leaning away and stepping back.  She walks out of the dressing room, dodging Rose as she runs in.  Her bra is gone, pasties on her skin.

“My eyelash is falling off!” she whines, and Rey lets the door shut behind her.  The back hallways of the club were clear thankfully, Rey seeing the neon tint of the stage.  She takes a deep breath, leaning over to the DJ. It was some 21-year-old guy, fresh out of a local community college and ogling at most of them.

“I need you to play this.  You cut me off early, I’ll kill you,” she mumbles, pulling the flash drive from her bra.  Rey’s been having issues with being cut off lately.

“Yeah, fine.” he acquiesces.  Rey smiles, walking up the stairs that opened up to the back of the stage.  She smooths out the fabric on her hips, before checking her wig. Securely on, she steps out on the stage.

The strip club is neon-tinted, blue and pink lights splayed across the walls and booths.  It’s an old club, esteemed in history for being the go-to for touring rockers and athletes in Atlanta.  It’s a Friday night, so it’s packed with plenty of people hoping for a flash of skin.

Rey is only here to be that, and she slinks to the pole as the beginning notes of B.O.B. come over the speakers.  She’s a different look for this club, flatter-chested and lithe. But her experience, all 7 years of it, as she lets her hand grip the pole for an experimental turn.

She’s casually warming up, getting a grip as the music builds to the chorus.  It’s a routine she’s practiced an abundance of times, and it’s obvious as she slides her grip down the pole so her ass is pointed right at stage left.

They’re definitely business-men, still in suits with opened collars and loosened ties.  There’s 3 of them, but Rey’s eyes only land on one.

Tall, dark, and brooding, he’s rubbing along his jaw as she rolls her hips along the pole.  He’s only staring at her, while the other dark-haired one is slyly checking his phone. The ginger beside him is ordering drinks.

Rey feels the tips of her ears turn red at his gaze, unprecedented for her.  It seemed like a different type gaze to her, speculative instead of hungry. She was being watched closely, and she watches him reach into his wallet.

That’s her favorite part of all of this, the money.  She waits for him, swinging around the pole to give the other side of the stage _something_ to work with.

By the time she does her full rotation, he’s got a crisp bill in his hand.  Rey’s eyes flash to the corner, where 50 reads. She swallows and moves to the left side of the stage once more.  

She gets right up to the edge of the stage, towering over him.  He looks up at her, and she notices brown eyes and how much more aquiline his features are than she thought.  Full lips, stoicism on his face as he pushes the dollar past the fabric of her panties.

His hands don’t linger long, and she’s thankful that he understands the rules.  She doesn’t want to watch his very beautiful face get decked by a security guard, who’s hanging tight to the wall and watching him.

Rey idly sets her hand where the dollar sits, turning around and stepping away back to the pole.  She gets back to her routine, throwing glances at him on occasion.

He’s only watching her, ignoring his friend beside him who is now trying to talk to him.  Rey hones her focus back on what she’s doing, and she goes for the kill. She grabs the pole with both hands, twirling around and using her momentum and arm strength to climb up it.  Rey practices daily for moments like these.

Once she feels her thighs are secure, she lets her hands drop their grip.  She stays upright, then letting her back fall. Her head is upside down, and so is he.

Her spine rolls against the pole, testingly.  Dollar bills hit the stage from his ginger-haired friend, and tall, dark, and handsome is only watching her with a smirk on his face.  Rey pulls herself back up to upright, blush tinting her face as she finds her way back down.

She needs to find something he likes.

Even if it kills her.

✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫

It’s not like he hates strip clubs.

Ben isn’t that stupid, he wouldn’t hate an institution that profits off of sex and men’s insecurities.  It’s only fair since the Earth does it for women.

He just hates going with Hux and Poe, both of them wanting to see some skin after a long day of work.  The campaign had done a successful job on Super Tuesday and it was enough reason for them to want to celebrate.

He was hating it until she came on.  The first thing that caught his eye was the hair, long and blue and hitting just above her ass.  He doubts its real, and he’d be shocked if it was. Of course, he has to notice her body next. She’s slim, toned, and fills out the pair of black panties like it was her job.  He supposed it was her job, to seduce him.

That’s why she was giving him the looks, and obviously vying to impress him.  He only notices it because Poe points it out. “You get laid by a stripper, it’s legendary.  I will never stop telling the office.” Poe says, and Ben’s eyes roll.

“Not happening.  It’s their job to flirt with patrons,” he answers.  He wasn’t an idiot.

“Yeah, that’s why she’s got fuck me eyes on and sticks to this side of the stage.  You’re fucking obtuse, Solo.” Poe answers, standing up. Ben doesn’t look after him and glances to Hux.  He’s managed to grab the attention of a passing stripper, a petite blonde. They’re talking in low voices, and dollars are exchanged.

“See ya, Solo.  Private show.” Hux says, then getting up.  Ben looks after him.

“Take care of him!” Ben calls, sure he wasn’t heard over the music.  Hux could hold his own he hopes, even 4 drinks in. Hux trails after her, like a lost puppy.

Poe sits back down next to him.

“I got you a private show with her,” he confesses immediately.  Ben chokes on his drink and looks over.

“You what?” he asks.  Poe smirks.

“I did you a favor and got you a private show.  She’s a pretty penny too, one of their top dancers,” he says.  His mouth is dry, and Ben rubs his palms over his knees.

“You’re fucking ridiculous-” Ben starts, still watching her from the corner of his eye.  She’s stepping off stage, a security guard leaning to whisper in her ear. Her eyes then landed on him.

“You’ve got this in the bag.  Have fun.” Poe says, clapping him on the shoulder.  She’s stepping over, stopping before the plush couch they were relaxed on.

“Ben?” she asks.  Her voice is tentative, heard over the din of some terrible rap song.  He’s examining her up close now, seeing the dollar bills stuffed in her strappy high waisted underwear.  

“Yeah.  Hi,” he says, standing up.  He doesn’t mean to loom, but she has to step back to look up at him fully.  He sees her swallow.

“You do this before?” she asks, gesturing to the club around her.  She then holds out her hand, and Ben looks at it like it’s a bear trap.  He wasn’t supposed to touch her.

She grabs his hand instead, and tugs on him.  “I’ve been to a strip club before. I never partake,” he says.  Ben tips, of course, he’s not stingy.

“Why’s that?” she asks.

He wants to say a lot of things.  How he’s a senator’s son, and actively works on his mother’s campaign trail.  How being seen getting dragged off to some back room isn’t in his agenda.

“I don’t know,” he answers.  She bites her lip and focuses on the walk ahead.  He looks at her spine, at the small script at the top of it.  It reads _balance_.

“What’s your name?” he asks.  She glances back, as they’re taking a set of neon stairs.

“Um...Rey.  That’s my actual name.” she answers.  He believes her.

“What’s the fake one then?” he asks.

“Daisy,” she answers, a small smile tinting her lips.  Ben snorts, and they continue their walk. It leads him down a blue paneled hallway, and Rey stops at the third door down.  She pops it open, and Ben glances at the pink velvet lining the walls.

“What era is this club from?” he asks.

“70’s.  Sit,” she says, letting go of his hand.  Ben does as he’s told for once, and he sits back against the armchair with a casualness that he wished he could emulate in normal life.  He wants to impress her, to overcompensate like some male gorilla.

Rey’s holding a black iPhone, and he wonders where she could’ve possibly pulled it from.  She’s plugging it into the speaker dock.

“So what do you want.  A lap-dance?” she asks.  Ben only stares at her, before he shrugs.

“Whatever you want to do,” he says.  He means _whatever_ , but he doesn’t want to say it outright.  The lip bite is a dead giveaway, but she pulls composure quickly.

“Okay,” she says, and she steps up to his legs.  Turning so her back faced him, she hovers delicately over his lap, she rolls her hips.  “Is your hair real?” he asks. Ben’s tempted to touch it, but he holds back. That would be just creepy.

“No.” she snorts.  

Ben’s not surprised.  “It’s a good way to keep anonymity,” he mumbles.

“You’ve got that right.  No one can pick me out in daily life,” she says.  Ben’s eyes land on her tattoo again. He’s trying to abate hardness, admittedly.

“What’s balance mean?” he asks.  Rey turns around, and he thinks he’s done something wrong.

That’s until she sits on his lap, and her eyes avert past him.  Always professional, and Ben loathes it. “It means balance. Do tattoos have to have some special meaning?”

She’s got him there.  He only rubs the back of his neck with a shrug.

“I wouldn’t know,” he says, and Rey cocks her head.

“So...what’s up with you?  Why are you here?” she asks, and he can hear smile tinting her lips.  

It’s obvious why he’s here as she grinds on him.  It couldn’t be on purpose that she was directly on his dick.

“It’s just a Friday off from the election is all,” he answers.  It’s cryptic and telling, and he’s glad she seems satisfied.

“I didn’t vote.  I wouldn’t know,” she mumbles, and her hands set on his chest.  Ben wishes the fabric of his dress shirt was gone, but he only focuses on her.

“Why didn’t you?” he asks.  Rey hums.

“You can touch me you know.  And also...I just didn’t. Dunno.” she says.  Ben’s more taken back at the first part of her sentence, a shock since he preaches the importance of voting.

She’s almost batting her eyes.  Ben’s hands settle on her waist, and she scoots closer.  They can’t do this now.

“You do this to customers often?” he asks.  She smiles.

“No.  You just stood out,” she mumbles.  Ben snorts, his hand coming to stroke down her back.

“What do you do besides this?” he asks.  He wants to actually speak to her, know her thoughts for this moment.

Even if it’s just for tonight, Rey was leaving an impression.  “I do normal stuff. Go to the gym, grocery store. I like watching TV on my days off.” she says.

“But there’s other stuff.  Like where do you shop for groceries?” he asks.  It’s a dumb question, and she giggles. It’s music to his ears.

“Whole Foods.  And the Farmers Market they throw in my area on Saturdays.  What about you?” she says. Ben should’ve known she would eat organic, and he has to hold back from snarking.

“I get them delivered.  But what TV do you watch?” he asks.  Ben doesn’t like thinking about certain things, and going to get groceries is one of them.  There’s more to know.

“Food Network.  I like zoning out to Barefoot Contessa.  Where do you live Ben?” she asks. Ben almost forgets she’s grinding on him.

“I split my time between DC and Atlanta.  My mother is running for re-election,” he says.  Rey’s eyebrows raise.

“You’re too nice to be in politics,” she mumbles.

“I’m not nice.  You haven’t seen me at work.” he fires back, and she runs her hands through her hair.

“I have a feeling.  Call it a fallacy.” she shrugs, and Ben watches her hands trail to his ribs.

“You’re playing with fire,” he warns, low.  He hopes it’s not out of turn, Ben just doesn’t want to advance too fast.

“Maybe I like getting burned.”

That makes all noise halt in his throat, and she’s staring him down.  Ben looks at her, and he then pushes on her back to push her closer to him.  She only lets him, and her chest is only 2 inches from his.

“You’re hard,” she says.  She’s fucking with him.

“And big.” she then mumbles, and he feels her grind down his length.

“Yeah.  Unless you want this big cock inside of you, you need to stop,” he growls.  A change of pace, a warning.

Rey’s eyes narrow, and she pointedly grinds down.  “I’m on the clock.” she excuses.

“What about off?  What happens then?” he asks.  Rey cocks her head as she looks at him, like how a scientist would examine a specimen.  She was enjoying this.

“We’ll see what happens.” she muses then.  Ben’s jaw sets, and he looks away from her.

“I don’t even know your full name.  I can’t fuck you.” she then says.

“Benjamin Organa-Solo.  Add the Amidala at the end if you really feel inclined,” he answers immediately.  Rey smiles.

“Amidala?” she asks.

“Grandmother.”

She nods, seemingly pleased.  Ben only keeps his eyes on her.  “See, now you know my full name. How hard was that?  Now you can fuck me.” he says. Rey snorts and her hands smooth across his ribs.

“Cameras in here.  No thanks,” she whispers, leaning close to his ear.

Ben looks to the side, seeing the camera in the wall.  Not a good idea, she was right. “Later. When do you get off?” he asks.  Rey rolls her hips on top of him again, and she hums.

“In an hour or so.  You can walk me to my car, that’s all I guarantee,” she answers.  Ben nods, knowing he can take that guarantee at least. He wants her boneless in his bed at some point.

“Fine.  I’ll be there,” he says, and he feels her hands run through the back of his hair.

“Good.”

✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫

Rey didn’t expect him to wait for her.  She was used to a lot of men making promises they couldn’t keep, and she would rather live in a constant state of assumptions.

But as she’s ducking out the back door, black hood thrown over her brunette head and dance duffle over her shoulder, she catches his eyes across from the door.

He had been waiting, obvious by the lit cigarette between his fingers.  He leans off the wall, and he adjusts the blazer on his shoulders.

“I wasn’t expecting you to-” she starts.

“I’m highly motivated to get to know you.  Of course I did,” he says, and it makes a deep blush rise on her cheeks.  She’s glad he can’t see it in the dark night. He’s stepping to her, and she gazes up at him.

His hand comes up and pulls the hood off her head, and Rey snorts when she realizes what he’s doing.

“Brunette.  I like it,” he says.  She doesn’t want his hand to move, as it strokes down the back of her head.

“Does get to know me mean fuck me?” she asks then, starting her walk to her car.  He follows her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. She doesn’t hate it.

He obviously doesn’t either.  “A bit of both. You’re interesting to me,” he says.  She looks to the side at him.

“Am I now?” she asks.  Ben shrugs.

“Yes.  Where’d you go to school?” he asks.  

“I went to the University of Texas for architecture/infrastructure,” she says.  Ben hums in interest, and she’s looking back to her feet.

“I assume you went to college in like the 1600’s for poly-sci?” she asks.  Ben looks over at her.

“A. I’m only 34.  B. I went for pre-law and passed the bar exam in Virginia.” he mumbles.  Rey laughs aloud.

“It was a joke.  That means I make as much as you then,” she says.  Ben’s eyebrows furrow in shock.

“Remind me how much strippers make?  I don’t talk to enough of them,” he says.

“Most girls average about 200,000 a year in Atlanta,” she answers, a smile on her face.  Rey had gone without all her life, and she was finally at the point where she didn’t have to.  Of course, she was still wise with her money.

“I’m making breadcrumbs on the campaign trail.  Maybe I should consider a new line of work,” he says.

“You’re too big and would break any pole you tried to swing on.”

That rouses an actual laugh, and his fingers trail along her shoulder blades.  “Maybe you’re right. Leave it to the professionals. How long have you been stripping?” he asks.

“7 years.  Since 17,” she answers.  Rey doesn’t like talking about the first two years of her career, about Unkar Plutt or the restrictions.  The man still owed her 20,000 dollars in tips and had just skipped out of town.

“It shows.  Everyone else looked like a penguin,” he mumbles, and she can’t help but giggle.

“Some of them are new hires.  You should be nicer,” she says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her keys.  The Jeep a few paces down unlocks, midnight black. The interior lights come on, and she stops to lean against the passenger side.

“Thanks for walking me.  I didn’t have to grip my mace this time,” she says, and he’s looking down at her.

“I’ll do it whenever you want.  This place is only 15 minutes away,” he says.  Her eyebrows furrow in disbelief, but his hard face means he’s not kidding.

“I get off at...2am tomorrow.” she then says.  Ben nods, and her fingers come up to instinctually fix his lapel.

“I’ll be here then,” he says, and Rey’s stepping closer to him.  Her fingers come to grip his collar, and her tongue swipes over her lips.

He moves in before her, his lips pressing against hers.  Rey melts, his lips only a tiny bit rough in comparison to her chapstick slathered ones.  Her mouth instinctually parts, and he corners her between the mirror and passenger door.

It’s heaven, making her head spin until a drunk pack of men walk by.  “Get a room!” they yell, and Rey grabs Ben’s blazer before he can turn and talk back.  Drunk men were an unstoppable force, and she doesn’t want to see hints of a temper already.

Not when he’s just kissed her like that.  Ben bristles until they walk by, eyes not leaving hers.  Once they’re far enough, she lets his blazer go. “I’ll see you?” she asks.  

“Yeah.  You will,” he says, and Rey nods.  His hand reaches into his blazer pocket, and a business card case comes out.  Plucking out a card, he holds it out to her.

Rey takes it, looking over the basic white heavyweight paper.  Then she looks up, tucking it past the collar of her t-shirt and into her bra.  “Goodnight, Ben,” she says, and Ben steps aside to let her get to the driver's side.

“Drive safe,” he says.  Rey shuts the driver's door, watching him gaze at the car for a moment before walking away.

Her chest flutters, the business card sitting next to her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't stop writing aus but in the words of a lot of my pals, "positive sex worker AUs are my kink". thoughts and feelings welcome @ dankobah.tumblr.com.
> 
> title of work based off of "Broken Clocks" by SZA  
> chapter title based off of "Hiiijack" by SZA
> 
> rey's lingerie and look: http://picture-cdn.wheretoget.it/g6qch5-l-172.jpg


	2. child's play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bite of her lip and a quick once-over before she hides away in the closet, and it’s landed.  It was waiting time now, patience never being human nature. Not when bodies were involved.
> 
> “Oh, I think you might like this one.  Do you like red?”
> 
> Tempting like a siren, it’s a struggle to resist while still leaned back on elbows.  “I’m partial to it. What do you like?”
> 
> A leg stretches out in the doorway, the peek of nude thigh-highs pulled over her skin.  

Bright lavender hair kisses her head when he sees her again, glowing beneath the dark and cloudless night.  Cigarette taps against the brick face behind him, fingers tossing it away so it wouldn’t distract from the girl before him.  

One vice a time.  “You came.”

A whisper passing shiny lips, an arm engulfing small waifish shoulders.  A bleeding heart beats erratically, of course, he came. Ben was coded as dangerously loyal, a fault in the political landscape he worked in.  The guarantee of a man who would never stray seeps from him, even as her claws begin to sink into tender flesh.

Insidious, thought-consuming and mysterious.  Descriptors worthy of a Match.com profile concerning her.

“Of course I did.”

It was a 15-minute walk from his place, and there was no better motivation.  Especially when the motivation is in a lacy white bodysuit, sweats and hoodie covering the important assets, and a lavender wig pinned in two neat buns at the top of her head.  Glitter lining the part of the hair resembling every little star in space.

Tucked into his side like a 6 months girlfriend would be, he makes sure to make his pleasure known.  “Very galactic-looking, Daisy.”

An edge on the fake name and her giggle comes across the quiet night.  “I felt like purple today. Do you like?” she asks.

The answer is too erotic to be spoken aloud.   _I want to fist different colors of hair and call you different names when I fuck you._

“I do like.  I like this too.” Hands pull at the strap of the bodysuit, coming back to hit her skin.

Nothing halts him, her smaller hand capturing his hand there as they walk.  “You look nice in...anything. It’s turning out to be quite unfair.”

Romantically hopeless and full of compliments, Ben only wants to hear her giggle again.  It’s a reward when she does, coming near her car. The large arm unwraps to allow an escape, the Rolex watch on his wrist reading 2:15  Too late to do anything since she had rejected him yesterday.

A coy smile is on her face, however, Ben’s head cocking at the unexpected reaction.  A cute look on her and her voice is quieter, “I was thinking you could come by mine and...hang out?  If it’s not too late for you.”

Not too late for him?  A voice lingering in the recesses of logical thought screams about a 12 PM flight out of Atlanta to New York.  Ben could care less about that now, as beautiful and bashful gazes at him with the same _fuck me_ eyes.  

“Of course.”

Placating, voice smoother than intended and she’s clearly pleased.  The trunk pops, bright pink duffle bag thrown next to a bag from Neiman Marcus.  A jump to close the trunk he notes, green eyes checking over freshly painted nails.  Rey’s dainty and girly, contrary to the deep interior of the car. A rumble of the engine breathes the purpose of off-roading into the air, and he wonders if it’s ever been utilized.

One hand on the wheel and a simple glance back, the woman of his dreams pulls out of a parallel park space like it was merely child’s play.  “You can see my lingerie collection,”

Out to kill or disarm, he can try to determine if the threat is hostile.  “Can I see it on you?”

A reflex to kick himself begins to rear its head, but her giggle abates it as the car rolls to a step.  The red of the light bathes them both in a glow. “I’ll show you what I think you’ll like. I have my suspicions.”

Conspiracy on her face, Ben wants to kiss it off and she’s lucky that she’s driving.  Bodies relax into seats further, comfortable silence lapping at the shore. Small mannerisms present, fingers flicking strands of hair out of her face and long gazes out the open window at stoplights.  How a hand comes to drift across his thigh, closing around the muscle comfortably.

They mirror each other, and her lip is dragged between white teeth.  “Am I overstepping my bounds with the meaning of hanging out?”

A question that’s on a need to know basis.  A shake of her head soothes. “No. You’re right on target.”

The parking garage of the high rise is underground, a smart consideration for Atlanta crime.  A lean out the window, straining to swipe a keycard to give them access.

Taking advantage of easy access, he squeezes a handful of her ass before she sits back against the leather.  The engine cuts in a marked spaced, and the tension is thick and heady in the recycled air of the car.

A lean and he’s up against the dividing console to kiss her.  Soft lips part for rough, large hands fisting the black cotton of the hoodie to draw her closer.  Time ticks away though, the sand inside the hourglass seeming to slip from his fingers.

“We need to go inside.  Please?”

Practiced fluidity only displays on her end, a graceful exit from the car contrary to his long-limbed (almost) tuck and roll.  Duffle in her grip and his hand in the other, she leads the way into the building.

Four keycard swipes to get in calm the worry knotted in his stomach, more security than his digs.  An easy lean on the elevator wall, Rey staring at the doors while they climb up floors.

A decision to close the distance between them helps patch the bleeding nerves.  Bright eyes, in contrary to the tired they look at, gaze up at him. Gloss covered lips sparkle in the unforgiving fluorescent light, and her mouth parts beneath his.  Bodies molded impossibly close, small hands twisting the cotton fabric of the black t-shirt.

The door opens, mouths parting.  Longing for each other hits as the back of hands wipes lips, as she tugs him out of the elevator and down the hall.  Grey painted, immaculately tiled, and the black door before them is almost ominous.

The key ring jingles as it properly slots into the door, a small plastic flag standing out in the mess of metal.  “South Africa?”

A double take from the key ring to him gives him the answer he needs.

“Yeah uh...I was found there.” Cryptic, and it would be wrong to press.  The wounded look seems practiced and well known, and the door opening distracts him from the want to ask questions.

A very important call to Leia Organa would have to be made in the morning.

Shuffling in behind her, the lights turn on to reveal the space.

Light wood and white walls, it echoes a little of New York City.  A brick wall in the living room only adds to the look, where a large TV above a fireplace sits.  Modern, sophisticated, Rey has done well for herself.

Speculative eyes are then on the body on the couch, curled up beneath a thin blanket.  “Poor Finn. They must’ve fought again.” Casual as it’s stated, and Ben can’t help but feel bad for the guy for the obvious exile.   

“I have 2 other roommates.  We need to be quiet.”

The time was 2:30 and he was in deep with her, knowing he had to be up in 5 hours to go get his things and jet off to New York for a donation gala.  “Of course.”

Quiet is the game with politics, and practice makes perfect.  Arms wrap around a slender waist, a kiss pressed beneath her ear.  A squeal erupts from her lips, music to anyone’s ears.

“Can I get you anything?” she asks then.  A good hostess, he has to kiss her for that quality too.  There’s no complaint as her hand settles on his chest, lips only breaking for an answer.

“Water.”

So the desert in his throat can finally turn bearable, knowing he’s going to need it with her.

“My room is the third door on the left.  Feel free to…”

A coy smile finishes the words, and Ben can’t help but snort, turning on his heels and heading to his ultimate demise.

The apartment is cozy, but not cozy enough that a bedroom can’t have a stripper pole.  It’s the opposite aesthetic than the frame of his life, light and airy. A large white vanity dominates a space, expensive looking products stacked up and messy.  Not bothering to look at them (Ben is hopeless when it comes to women’s beauty), his eyes move on. The bed up against the wall is a king, and limbs won’t have to crumple up.  Sitting on clean grey sheets, his hands land on the doll perched against the pillows. Tiny and ratty, obviously sucked on from a baby.

A heart he doesn’t peg to work sometimes decides to constrict, moving the doll aside as he sits on the bed.

Belt pulled through belt loops and tossed near the bed, Ben sits back on his elbows for a moment.  Wired now, gaze only focused on the open bedroom door and into the dark hallway.

The quiet is like the calm before the storm, Rey coming in.  Sweats and hoodie ditch, he sits up to survey the body before him. Dance duffle dropped by the door, a full water bottle lands on the empty nightstand.

 _A good girl_ , he wants to remark.  Teeth bite down on the tongue to hold it back.  

“Let's see.  What does Ben Organa-Solo like in lingerie?”

A grave is being dug live, Rey tossing the dirt behind her with enough glee to make anyone jealous.  Flattery gets far, and he’s flawless at it, “The person wearing it.”

A bite of her lip and a quick once-over before she hides away in the closet, and it’s landed.  It was waiting time now, patience never being human nature. Not when bodies were involved.

“Oh, I think you might like this one.  Do you like red?”

Tempting like a siren, it’s a struggle to resist while still leaned back on elbows.  “I’m partial to it. What do you like?”

A leg stretches out in the doorway, the peek of nude thigh-highs pulled over her skin.  

It’s obvious how fucked he is as she comes to lean in the doorway.  Red floral lace crawls across her breasts. The matching garter cages above the swell of hips, white knuckles knotting in sheets to resist the want to get it off.  

Large body rising without warning, she pulls the reigns hard enough to distract.  “Easy there. I have more to show you.”

A lean on the doorway, hand drifting across her hip.  

“Then show me,” A strained voice to keep the edge off, impossible to maintain as his cock is hardening up against his thigh.  Settling back onto the bed, hands occupied by anything else.

A demon stands before him, sent from hell to kill him.  Erotic, and death is fine with him as long as the bringer looks like _that_.

“Do you like my ass in this?” Body curving along the doorframe so he can see for himself.  Wearing what he thinks is a thong (it barely qualifies), and it’s definitely the same ass that Ben would create a fucking altar for.

Death could have the courtesy to come even quicker.  “Of course.”

Gritted teeth for the unfair question, satisfaction painting her limbs as she leans off the door.  

“Next set.” A breath releases when she ducks away, his hands rubbing across his knees to bring him down from space.

“You wanted something I like?”

A nod before he realizes that she can’t see him, flush rising to the tips of his ears.  “Yeah. Your favorite.”

It’s said with a heavy examination of palms, to distract from the lack of blood in his brain.

Determined not to keep him waiting long, she comes back into the bedroom.  Sheer and white, her body the background to tiny white stars printed across the fabric.  Hardened nipples, he can see it through the fabric and in the way her lip is being gnawed at.

The panties and garter match, complementing the astral theme with the lavender space buns.  “I like it. Come closer.”

A transparent effort to entice her and end this, and she’s glancing him up and down.  Then she takes bouncy steps forward, stopping just before him. Slotted between his knees, she fits in.

A hot girl with substance, from some deluxe hot girl factory.  A real girl, not the waifish and vapid things he used to cling to in college like a safety blanket.  

“Can I touch you?”

It’s a question, and so they don’t toe a grey line.

“I want to try one more,” she says.  A nod, jaw working over as his eyes graze across her ribs.  It’s not something he’s not gonna last through, and he needs to sate the fire licking up his spine with something.

“I won’t take this off.  Let me touch you.”

Before a protest, he grabs the strap of her garter and pulls her even closer.  The cocky and coy smile swims between them, spurring him further.

Lips press into her sternum, sweeping trails down the soft skin of her abdomen.  Hands card through his hair as he does, the worship appreciated.

“You’re _needy_.”

Chastising and disarming, confusion takes hold when his cock _throbs_ at it.  The opportunity gives her the window to pull away from him, hands gripping at nothing but air.  Another coy smile and Ben wants to replace it with her mouth agape while coming on top of his cock.  

Gone into the closet again, he takes the time to stand.  A looming figure, it’s hard to avoid him. Lips touch skin when she comes back out, body caged in a pale lilac set.  There’s no skirting around this now, not as he backs her into the mattress.

“Ben-”

T-shirt ripping off his head, her speech stuttering as jeans roll down legs.  Glad he likes to channel his deep-seated issues at a gym, her hand comes to rove with the appreciation of an artist towards their muse.

The feeling is mutual, large hands engulfing hips.  The size was for his benefit, manually easing her back onto the mattress.  A pause for essential conversation as he crawls on, “Contraceptive? STDs?”

No condom in his wallet and he’s praying that the guy on the couch could have one.  How would that look?

Hi, you don’t know me, but I’m here to fuck your very pretty roommate.  Can you spot me a condom?

“IUD, and clean.  You?”

It pulls him out of his head, and least someone was an adult about this.

“I’m clean.  Are you okay with…”

How would a tasteful person word coming inside of a pretty girl?

A serene nod saves the situation.  “I am. I actually prefer that.”

The words are followed up by scooting down the mattress, owning the space.  Ben was just a visitor in Rey’s world now.

Stopping when they’re close together, her heels rock back to mirror.  A sexier sight in comparison to what he perceives. Sex is being sold now, even as the pale lavender buns unwind.  Lavender hair kisses just below her spine, fingers unable to resist their wind. Thankfully allowed, the softness pulling between knuckles with every stroke.  

Purple is growing on him, from the lilac on her to the sickly sweetness of her tresses.  

“Do you top...or?”

Their bodies close, curiosity in the air as she says it.  Mooning eyes, Ben has to gulp when the words hit him.

He considers himself as a top for all intents and purposes.  Size made it a natural inclination, most women he’s been with being smaller than him.  Most men were smaller than him also if he was really being honest. Forever damned to be the one who looms over a room, who controls and commands a situation.

But Rey managed that too.  Controlling the situation from the moment she laid eyes on him, and he was along for the ride.  

“I’m willing to do whatever you want.”

No fear or waver in his voice, committed to pleasing her.

Diplomatic and pleasing her as a smile curls on her lips.  Pink stains her cheeks, and his hand skirts along her thigh.  

“I mean anything.  Anything at all-”

Getting off her heels, leaning forward to kiss him before he’s finished.  Fingers knot in his hair and the pain feels right.

Just enough, and her lips fluttering on the side of his throat.  Hands manipulate his neck so it cranes for her mouth

“Marks below the collar.  I have to be on camera tomorrow.”

Knee-jerk reflex, he wants to instantly apologize.  

Honesty would also have him admit that he doesn’t want the ribbing from Leia Organa.  Pulling back, it's making sure he can see her roll her eyes at him.

“Fancy you.”

A mumble with a snort, like politics, were petty little games of chutes and ladders.

“Tell me what you want.”

Changing the subject, the situation is still hopeless due to the secretive smile that spreads across her face.

Sitting with a straight back, to look very prim and proper under his gaze.  “Can I,” she starts to say while fidgeting with the front clasp of her bra, “sit on your face?”

This image could burn on the back of his lids, her wide and doe eyes and swollen lower lip.  This is very new, and the territory is making Ben’s stomach coil. Instead of answering, his head hits the pillows.

Hesitation begins, and he lifts his head.  “Come on then.”

Never a novice in oral, he can claim knowledge after making girls come on his tongue over and over again.  This was oral, just vertical oral.

It rationalizes as that, cementing in the recesses of his head as she crawls gently up his body.  Stopping to press kisses on his clavicle, neck, and finally lips, she adjusts to straddle over his head.  Panties are pulled off in the process, garter belt allowing nude thigh highs to box a halo of obsidian, facets of a molasses tone in some lights.

The garter belt remains, nude thigh highs boxing in his head.  Ben can’t stop staring at her, at the slight nervousness.

“Have you done this before?” he asks.  

Curiosity killed the cat, and the deep crimson blush tells him all he needs to know.  “Oh, baby…”

The words only stop for her want and for the nearly dripping pussy that was hovering over his lips. “Stop it.”

Embarrassment tinting her tone, he can’t help but smile at that.  “It’s cute. Now sit on my face already.”

It’s obvious she’s ready, the smell enticing enough for his mouth to water.  More blood rushes to his cock, neglected and still sheathed in denim.

She does as she’s told, easing her body gently onto him.  Waiting lips line up perfectly, tongue sweeping across soaked folds gratefully.  The first taste validates the wait, tangy and rushing to the back of his tongue to sit.

It’s a taste that he’ll crave the rest of his life, and the animal inside of him is determined to get it.  Though she’s a quiet one, soft moans leaving her lips every time he licks along her clit. Back arching, white knuckles gripping the headboard with a ferocity to crack.

It doesn’t and his hands come to hold both of her thighs in place, because she doesn’t get to move until she comes.  It’s a simple rationalization that ruined his cock, patience never ripping through Ben’s body so well. He wants her boneless and full of his come _now_ , but she gets to come first before that happens.

His tongue dips into her, sweeping around.  “Ben.” she moans, only spurring the tightening of his grip on her thighs.  He quickens, and he can tell she’s unraveling by how much her thighs tremor.

Gushing onto his tongue with his name on her lips, it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.  More pretty than sunsets or beaches or vistas, her chest tinted red, small and shaking breaths leaving her lips.

Long moments to catch breathing, until she slinks to sit back onto his chest.  Bare and freshly ruined pussy hits his chest and he tries to ignore it, tongue swiping over his lips to collect all it can.  

“You look so pretty when you come.”

A snort and a light shake of lavender strands.  “I’ll take your word for it.”

Smoothing rough palms over soft thighs, Rey’s gazing down at him.  Hand coming up to cup along with his jaw, finger landing to stroke along the cut of his cheekbone, Ben finds he doesn’t mind it like he normally would.  

“Can I ride you?  I wanna keep looking at you.”

Soft and sweet, the flattery makes his heart swell 40 sizes too big and Ben has to set his jaw with a nod to keep some composure.  Not the type to be a lovesick puppy, not after eating a girl out and walking her to a car twice.

Sliding off his, practiced hands deftly push briefs down legs. Thighs still straddling him, his cock is nearly bruised looking, precome collected at the head.  Also throbbing, having to bite on his cheek when she gently wraps her hand around it to adjust above.

“I’m big, but you don’t need to go in one shot.” It’s said before he can stop himself.  A precursor to all the sex he has because he hates seeing the tears or taking a girl to an ER for tearing.  

Only a determined look is passed, before positioning his head at her folds and sinking.

The feeling makes all breath and rational thought leave, stomach tightening up at the tightness and how she flutters around him to takes it.  Still managing, with slowness, to sink to the base. There’s still an inch exposed, and the image of Rey overfull on top of his cock is also something to be inked into his skin.

Hands settle on hips, fingers splaying across her spine.  “Good?”

Nervousness passes between eyes, until she leans down, and presses their lips together.  Hands bracing, lips don’t leave each other, not even as she slowly rocks up and down his length.

Tight and dripping, and letting his tongue invade her mouth.  Obviously too good for most mortal men, including him. Breaking their lips, and kissing just below her ear,  “You’re so fucking tight.”

A giggle trembles through her body, and Ben’s hand moves to thumb circles into her clit.  Rousing a moan as expected, though quiet.

“Louder.”

Pulling back to look at him, he barely realizes it was spoken aloud.

“I mean you can be loud if you want-”

Cut off by a louder moan, he can’t help but heavily exhale.  The blissful smile after she does it helps soothe.

“You’re being such a good girl for me.”  A visceral reaction, deep from his gut and living there to fester.  

Good girl, she was a good girl and she knew it.  Obviously, based on how she sits up on his cock with an arched back.  “You want me to be a good girl for you?”

Nodding, teeth gnawing at lips blood can flow.

“I’ll be a good girl, I promise.” Like her obedience is a favor.

It’s too fucking cute, threatening to give him a cavity, also invading his head like a bad seed.

Taking a chance, he can’t stop himself this time.  “I want to see my come leak out of you. Please?”

Her face, how her head cocks in thought as her hips roll, makes the breath catch in his throat.  “Okay. Your dick is so-” Slinking back over to push their chests and lips together.

Responding with a buck of hips, meeting each bounce.  “My dick is what Rey? Tell me what my dick is.” Growling, he wants her undone and she’s so close.

“Let me see you, let me see you come on my cock.” Sitting up for him, back perfectly arched for his growling and rubbing at her clit.

There’s tears leaking from the edge of green eyes, mascara running and whines leaving the confines of her throat as she gushes around his cock.  It pushes him over the edge. Growling, he comes, gripping hips hard enough to bruise. Too gone to care, body shuddering and fluttering around him as she comes down.  Manually moving her, it’s to make sure all of him is in her.

Pulling her off, he flips her onto her back.  Spreading her legs, eyes magnetized to her pussy.  Pink and ruined, his come coating around the hole and dripping out of her.  It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Look at you, ruined by my cock.”

Giggling after he says it, hands pushing through dark hair.  “That was…”

A finger comes across press against his lips, halting speech.

“I know.”

✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫✫

Five was a lucky number for Rey.

Losing her first tooth at five, getting her period on the fifth of the month.  Five-inch heels, five tattoos nestled along her body.

But five becomes unlucky at divine intervention, a punishment.

Date five with Ben was perfect, for all intents and purposes.  They had been similar to the last four, above and beyond and full of all sorts of interesting tidbits.  

But politics come up at date five, a topic easily skirted until now.  A career, after all, presenting an ugly head as they stare at each other over glasses of red wine.   “I’m not gonna be around as much. The election is ramping up.”

Eyes flick to the tablecloth, and she swallows as she nods.  “That’s okay.”

Not okay, clear as day based on how he sighs.  Smoothing it all over, her foot pushes along his calf beneath the table.

Smoothing enough to allow his lips to smash against hers, trapping her between him and the brick face outside.  Hands roving her body, trying to push the peacoat off her shoulders.

Undressing her in the street, claiming her and making their union glaringly known.

Known enough for a shutter to snap, an email to be sent, and for Rey’s happiness to blow into a mushroom cloud.

The iPhone starts vibrating off the nightstand, clock reading 4:30 am.  Only two days later, everything is forgotten. Dancing across the floor, it gets Rey blearily out of bed to grab it.  Texts, emails, calls, voicemails light the screen, background a creep shot of Ben looking at Lake Lanier on their second date.    

 **Unknown Number** : ** _Whoa, college obviously did nothing._ **

**Unknown Number: _A stripper?  You were always such a tease._ **

**Unknown Number: _Nice mug on CNN, fucking liberal whore._ **

CNN.

Running to her computer, the spacebar key slams until the screen comes to life.  Web browser already open, CNN is typed with trembling fingers.

Auto-completing, the page loads to the bright red home.  Confusion colors at the first headline.

**GOP CALLS FOR RESIGNATION OF LEIA ORGANA.**

Eyes cast down to the articles below, and her throat closes.

**Benjamin Organa-Amidala, Campaign Manager and Son of Leia Organa, Spotted Leaving Atlanta Restaurant With Stripper.**

There are pictures, an incriminating slideshow that you can flip through to really get the full effect.  It’s bad, Rey up against the brick face with his body engulfing her.

Everything is blurry, the lid of the laptop slamming down.  Fingers root in hair and pull, fear rocking up her spine and leaving trembles in her limbs.  Knees pulled to her chest, heads buried in hands, the phone still vibrates across the wood floor where it had been cast aside.

Ben’s name flits across the screen, fighting through all of the noise.

It’s abandoned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof, poor kids. Thoughts and feelings welcome @ [dankobah](https://dankobah.tumblr.com)  
> [white bodysuit](https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0790/9747/products/s-l1600_e89e44b7-3441-4305-9ddf-c262de898d3c.jpg?v=1508021558%E2%80%9C>white%20body%20suit</a>%0A<a%20href=)  
> [1st set](http://ilarge.lisimg.com/image/14276273/800full-stefani-sober.jpg/)  
> [2nd set](https://www.agentprovocateur.com/media/catalog/product/cache/3/image/500x/040ec09b1e35df139433887a97daa66f/1/8/180207_ap_ss18_luxx_014.jpg)  
> [3rd set](https://www.agentprovocateur.com/media/catalog/product/cache/3/image/500x/040ec09b1e35df139433887a97daa66f/1/8/180228_ap_ss18_pettra_027_2.jpg)


	3. green mile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fix it. There wasn’t fixing any damage done to his mother’s campaign, the glaring pictures intervening with the family first message that had tested so positively. A colossal career fuck-up, his mother said it was the name of the game, but he can’t help but feel the disappointment in her gazes.
> 
> This situation could ruin every scrap of work that his mother had fought for and stood by, and all he could care about was Rey.

It’s bad.

More than bad actually, Ben never actually expecting that he would have to sit in his mother’s office and explain his relationship with a stripper.  Much less the public, in front of bright flashbulbs and the sharks that smelled blood.

_A close friend, our relationship is over now.  Leave her alone._

That wasn’t the full truth because Ben didn’t even know where they stood.  Twenty calls had determined that she wasn’t gonna call back, pleading messages ignored also.  Messages that he poured his heart into.  _I understand if you don’t want to be involved anymore, but please just talk to me.  Let me fix this._

Fix it.  There wasn’t fixing any damage done to his mother’s campaign, the glaring pictures intervening with the family first message that had tested so positively.  A colossal career fuck-up, his mother said it was the name of the game, but he can’t help but feel the disappointment in her gazes.

This situation could ruin every scrap of work that his mother had fought for and stood by, and all he could care about was Rey.

News outlets had started with concealing her identity, but a gossip rag had figured out who she was and printed it;  everything about her, name, club, alma mater and many more fun little facts. A breach of safety for her, and he had no clue if she was okay.  A stripper who worked in a well-known club in Atlanta, who was just exposed to the batshit crazy political landscape he navigated. Thoughts of someone coming in and hurting Rey for their political agenda kept him up at night, tossing and turning in shared hotel rooms with Poe.

Ben wants Rey next to him, primarily as his head racks over every conversation they had ever had.  Scrubbing for something, some hint of anxiety.

_“Why do you do it?”_

_A heavy breath permeates the quiet room, the clock reading 4:30.  Ben had just gotten back from New York, only her body on his mind._

_After turning on her side, her hand drapes over his ribs as her head tucks into his chest._

_“Because I like it.”_

_A perfectly fine answer, but he wants to know more.  “What do you like about it?”_

_Fingers were tracing across his ribs, she hums, “I have control over my body, my money, and the effect I have on people.  I get to prance around in lingerie, shake my ass, and get paid for it. Then I get to have the ability to take off the wig and step away from it when I want.”_  
_Still beautiful in the dark, even as his lips press against hers.  Chaste, showing he understands._ _  
_ “But have you ever thought about stepping away?”

_Curiosity, wondering if Rey was going to do this the rest of her life.  Another hum, thoughts clearly racing._

_“I have.  But I always come back.”_

_“Why?”_

_Blurted out, brain trying to process._

_“The judgment of walking away from sex work and trying a ‘normal’ career path.  I’ll forever be a piece of meat or a whore in people’s eyes. Why exhaust myself fighting the stigma for normalcy?”_

Sick serendipity in words, the judgment of hitting Rey’s person like AK 47 rounds.  A target for public opinion, disgusting comments about her body that made him nearly crush his phone into dust.

Useless and unable to do anything but linger and irritate, Ben felt like dust.  

Apparently, Poe had reached his cap with the moping, slamming a boarding pass down on the rickety desk he was perched at.  Working out of the Democratic office in Cedar Rapids this week, Ben trying to avoid Atlanta as much as possible. Not a good look for a private plane to touch down in Atlanta and for him to get off it and be seen.  Even if he did live there.

“Go see her.”

That’s not that simple, and he wants to bite it out.  Instead, the boarding pass stares back at him. Economy, back of the plane, out of sight.

“What if she doesn’t want to see me?”

A rational fear and Poe is shaking his head.  Pinching the bridge of his nose, “Then you go back the next day and try again.  She obviously means the world to you, and if you deserve one thing, it’s her.”

Fingers drum on the desk, office chair squeaking as he leans back in thought.  A lousy idea, showing up at a strip club to talk your girlfriend down, though it would have to work.  Boarding pass plucked off the desk, he rises to full height.

“I can take the campaign for two days.  I’ll try to avoid your mother’s questions.”

No other thought is passing through his head, only Rey as he slides his blazer on.  “Just tell her I’m checking in on Atlanta. Georgia matters for the race.”

Georgia matters little for the race, but it’s a good excuse if she doesn’t think too hard about it.  Adjusting the strap of his briefcase on his shoulder, he checks his cellphone for anything from Rey.

Nothing but the radio silence that makes his stomach plunge, Ben hightailing it out of the office.

Operating with a scary and practiced efficiency while traveling, Ben makes it to the gate with 15 minutes to spare.  He didn’t actually bother with bags, knowing everything that he needs is at home. Rey is the first order of operations now, head circulating on what to say.

_Hey, sorry that my career just made yours significantly unsafe._

That wouldn’t work.

_Sorry that your career just got revealed to the earth and now people are calling you a leftist whore._

Also not very good, and nothing he could say seemed right.  What person would know what to profess? Probably some soul barely shit that would make her cringe would be leaving his mouth by the end of the night.

But would it work?  Better to keep expectations low, given the gravity of what had just happened.  Pushing away feelings of being a terrible person, leaving Rey hanging out for the vultures to pick her clean is not an option.  There are things to say, actions to take against the people who did this that require both of them to execute. Radio silence didn’t work for that, and neither did no contact.  

The car door slamming behind him, the Uber driver giving a dirty look for not answering every single one of his stupid queries about the day or the weather.  People were dying in this world, more pressing things than how Ben felt in this long fever dream.

Figuring the distaste was also for the destination of the strip club, he ignores all fear rising in his gut.  This could go one of two ways.

Thrown to the street, not even allowed to see Rey.  Or Rey would speak to him. Willing to fight tooth and nail for option 2, a cleansing breath rocks his body and feet propel him into the club.  A place he hasn’t set foot in since the night he met her, waiting around the back door like a lost phantom.

It’s not too late in the day, the crowd not significant for a Wednesday night.  Though she was here, always around for a Wednesday night shift.

Plenty happens when he steps near the stage, a hurricane in the form of Jessika Pava being one.  One of Rey’s roommates and co-workers, a leggy black haired girl with a mouth like fire.

Ben was unfortunate enough to be the tinder, kerosene dumping on the flames as she shoves him.

“Stay the fuck away from her.”  Spitting, angry. Ben's hands held up in reflex, trying to placate and soothe tense feelings.  Overwhelming feelings, as she glares at him.

“I need to talk to her.”

Hopeless sounding, he’s feeling the ground slip beneath him.  Falling away until a chasm can swallow everything light in this world.

“Oh yeah?  She doesn’t want to talk to you.  You fucked her life.”

 _Fucked it_ , like he fucked his mother’s campaign.  Shoulders tremble, trying to hold it together, so bones don’t shatter into pieces.  Teeth gritted hard enough to crack, fists closed.

“You’re nothing but a fucking creep, Organa.  We all fucking warned her.”

A stomp to the throat of his esteem, and he is truly lost.  

“Let me hear it from her.”

A challenge, staring Jessika down the barrel of an emotional gun.  Ultimatums weren’t his shtick, but Ben Organa is gone. Too strange eyes are fear filled as she backs up from him, swallowing with a bob of an Adam's apple.  Imposing, looming over her and raging like a sea in a storm, he hates himself.

There’s no other option, needing to be heard the number one priority.  “Jess, go to the back.”

The soft voice gets the blurry red to go away, and he realizes he’s crying.  Emotion wasn’t needed right now, his hands trying to grab for the black lingerie on Rey's body.

“Don’t touch me.  Please don’t touch me.”

Hand retracts like hitting a hot stove, and his heart cracks.  There’s no air in his lungs. The black eyeliner is too much around her eyes, black hair waving down her back too foreign in his gaze.

Rey wasn’t black.  Radiating yellow and blue, like the lingerie he fucked her in and the hair he met her in.  Sun and sky, the whole fucking world…

“I can’t...be with you anymore.  Not after this.”

A hammer on the crack, shattering his heart into a million fragments.

“Why.”

Voice weak, no posterity left.  Let him look like the man who lost everything.  No ability to memorize her face, his vision blurry and her head cast down.

“My job isn’t a good fit for yours.  Or your life.”

The _it's not you, it's me_ routine, heard enough.  

“Tell me the fucking truth.  What’s wrong with me.”

An order, not a question.  She shakes her head twice., arms crossing reflexively over her chest.  
“Tell me.  Fucking tell me, Rey.” Needing to know, his nails dig into his palms.  
Still not looking up, and his hands want to hold her so bad.  One last time, one last moment of pure bliss…

“Please go, before there’s a scene.”

Everything inside wants this place to burn to the ground if it has to.  Not feasible, not possible. No movement overtakes his limbs.

“Don’t make this hard.”

 _Hard_.  Hard is sitting in front of a press conference and wanting to defend the one person you felt whole with, and not having the ability to.  Hard was wanting to hire a security detail to follow someone, and knowing you didn’t have the right to.

Hard was losing her, and the knife is beginning to pull down his back.  “I hope you find a man with a normal career soon.”

A bite, a lash out that makes her visibly flinch.   _I’m so sorry sweetheart, it just hurts too much._

“Maybe he’ll show you how much you matter.”

Turning, numb limbs pushing him forward.  Leaving love and good behind to lurk in the dark, devote his life to loneliness until it swallowed him whole.

Fists slam against the brick face of an alleyway until knuckles gushed red.  Tears stream down cheeks, breath unable to leave lungs.

Gone.

Everything was gone.

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Tears had pooled as she spoke to him, and she’s surprised he didn’t call her on them.  Or the trembling fingers, clutching at her own body to keep from grabbing him.

The last 2 weeks had been the worst of Rey’s life for all intents and purposes.  Deleting her Facebook, getting a new number, and moving was only collateral damage.  Not to mention the probe, the visit from the FBI asking _did Benjamin Amidala Organa-Solo use campaign money to pay you._

No answers, only tears, she didn’t know what to say.  That had almost made her crack and call him, resisting just because the anger had twisted in her heart so tight.  
Not telling her this would be the consequence of playing games with him or fucking him.  Hatred and contempt for herself pooled in her veins, poisoning her mind and view of her body.  Was she a whore?

It was questions of morality she didn’t want to deal with anymore, and she was thrust into dealing with them once again.  Insecurity and fear begin to actually sink in at his walking away, leaving her a trembling mess when the door closes behind him.

Gone.  Ben’s gone.

Walking away before too many more people could take notice, she storms to the back dressing rooms with a rigidity unlike her.  Usually lithe, graceful, and unphased, she’s trying to hold back from ripping her hair out at the small vanity she used.

Nothing like hers at home, the mirror reflecting tears beginning to trail down her makeup-caked face.  Little trails through everything holding her together, mascara smudging black beneath her lash line. All the eyeliner on her eyes is leaving too, disintegrating as everything begins to sink in.

Breaking up with Ben was the only option, wasn’t it?  There was nothing to really excuse what she was after all, not proper for the political climate he worked in.  Sex work and laws weren’t compatible, and neither was publicity.

Anonymity had been ripped away from her and thrown into a dumpster fire to explode like glass.  Rey’s entire graduating class seemed to know that she hadn’t exactly made it after graduation, humiliation tinting Facebook until she had tossed that in the fire too.  No social media, a lack of security at work, and a lack of security in herself were the collateral damage, and she just had to accept it.

Lying on her back, all because someone she was fucking was in the public eye.

The loss of Ben weighed the most heavily, feeling as if her heart had been ripped from her chest, stomped on, and then thrown back in.  As much as she tries, she can’t hate him. Impossible to do, he never chose for them to be exposed like this.

Rey couldn’t risk that though, building a happy little existence for herself that was jeopardized.  Soft hands flutter along her back, Jessika scooting her chair to sit beside her.

“I did something wrong.  I shouldn’t have done that.”

Through sniffles and blurred eyes, congestion taking over her voice to make her sound pathetic.  

“You won’t have to worry about it anymore.  These weeks have been horrible for you, imagine that all the time.”

A point well made, even if she didn’t want to hear it right now.  Ben had been the best thing that had happened to her, though brief.  Sex, personality, he had everything she had ever wanted, and the world decided to disintegrate it.  To peer their prying eyes into who they were and what Rey wanted him to be.

It wasn’t realistic, a fever dream.  Though it felt achingly real, deep in her chest where it wouldn’t leave.

“He told me he wanted to fix it.”

All those messages, she had listened to all of them when she craved his voice.  Was it possible to crave a voice you barely knew?

“How would he fix it?  Tell each individual member of the public what a catch you are?”  
Referring to her as a close friend, that had stung more than the pictures.  Close friends didn’t fuck, didn’t take flights to fuck the other (Virginia to Georgia, 4 days after their third date).  No labels had been applied.

They would never be applied now.  

“If I did anything else for a career, this wouldn’t have happened.”

More rubs along her back.  “Don’t you dare say that. You are good at this, and you should not feel bad about this.  People should respect you the same as any other woman.”

A mantra she’s heard before, and the weight of it is lost on her.  No longer able to care at this point, her head lays on the vanity table.

“You did the right thing for your safety.  Who knows what else could’ve happened to you?  Firebomb your house or something.”

Stability seemed to reek from Ben Organa-Solo, and her heart longed for it.  Safety and security, a man who’s figured it all out. Decidedly not a girl who can’t get a job with her past, Rey feeling unqualified and lesser than.

Perhaps she is lesser than in the grand scheme, but everything was happening to her could’ve been prevented if she hadn’t done anything with him.

Memories of quiet conversations in the dark, spread legs, slow thrusts with light kisses pepper her mind.  Longing cuts through the silence, tears making her eyes red and glassy. Pitiful looking, mascara trailing down her face.

“Someday you’ll get over him.  The universe obviously saw something amiss in you two.”

“Or maybe he was perfect for me, and I lost him.”

A rapid-fire response, but she didn’t believe it from her own lips.  Jessika had a point. If the universe wanted it so, it would’ve made it so.

“You don't know.”

She wouldn’t.  Right as she was, her stomach still feels upside down with her world.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ouch. Thoughts and feelings are always welcome @ [dankobah](https://dankobah.tumblr.com/).
> 
> chapter title inspired by "Green Mile" by SZA
> 
> fashion:  
> [black lingerie](https://www.agentprovocateur.com/media/catalog/product/cache/3/image/500x/040ec09b1e35df139433887a97daa66f/e/u/eunice_052_3.jpg)


	4. pretty little birds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey’s the exception. Never having exceptions, she somehow has made a home to be one and to fuck up his entire process. A chink in his armor, a weakness. Though he wants her, he wants her laugh back, the way her skin feels. Wants smelling her hair, wrapping his arm around small shoulders, how she tucked into him. Quiet conversations into his skin.
> 
> It’s over though. 
> 
> Or so he believed.

The grainy sand of a canal bank in Virginia is under his toes when she texts him.

Georgia serves no purpose to him anymore, only painful reminders on just how  _ close  _ she was.  Unable to already keep her out of his head, he doesn’t need the pain of proximity.  So he had decided to go home, sub-letting his place to someone he didn’t even care to really get to know.  It was their murder if they wanted to trash it.

Home was...home.  Not in the same caliber of being in Rey’s bed, he instead wakes to his mother asking about policy schematics at three in the morning.  An insomniac, and while this wouldn’t normally bother him, depression is making him actually  _ sleep  _ for once.  The guest house was supposed to be separate after all, a temporary place to stay until he actually got into an apartment.  

Campaign being his only focus right now, it makes him into a monster if he wasn’t focused on it.  Break ups were rough, but this was soul crushing. Missing Rey came in waves, sometimes so small that they seem numb.  Sometimes they rack his body and have him sobbing into a pillow in the dead of night, stomach constricting with the longing and loss.  Ben Solo healed from everything, but this felt like a shadow of doubt. Five dates. He constantly had to remind himself that he should not be feeling this terrible over a breakup after only  **five** dates.  Given the circumstances, he feels he has no right to feel like his heart was ripped out.

Rey’s the exception.  Never having exceptions, she somehow has made a home to be one and to fuck up his entire process.  A chink in his armor, a weakness. Though he wants her, he wants her laugh back, the way her skin feels.  Wants to smell her hair, wrapping his arm around small shoulders, how she tucked into him. Quiet conversations into his skin.

It’s over though.  Or so he believed.

It’s two months later, a month before midterm elections.  His mother has insisted that they go to Virginia Beach (the family still held property there), for three days.  A small break, she called it. Ben assumed she just wanted to stop seeing him mope around the regular house and needed a change of scenery to continue watching it.

Walking along the canal behind their house is preferable to being and around his father and mother.  Han Solo, recently back from a two-month coaching stint in China, was on thin ice with his mother (for the whole China thing).  The election had everyone in the Organa-Solo family wound up, Han Solo finally understanding why his son and wife had been losing their minds for the past months.  It was too bad Ben could barely muster care about anything. The phone vibration gets him to care, vibrations on for texts. Expecting Poe, he’s surprised when Rey’s picture comes across the screen with a message.

_ I miss you _ .

After making sure he’s reading it right, and not hallucinating, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

**What can I do?**

Immediate, the sending slow enough to get him to glare at the canal.  No answer flits across his screen for awhile, causing his stomach to plunge as he walks back towards the house.

_ I don’t know.  I miss you. _

Repeated, and he gets the point.  Expedia was a bookmark on his phone, indicative of the fact that he never stayed in one place for more than a week.  Hartsfield-Jackson to Norfolk was cheap, not that it would have mattered.

Buying a plane ticket for the afternoon, it would put her arriving around four PM.  Rush hour would give him more time in the car with her, in case she didn’t want to go home with him.  Going back to his email, he screenshots the confirmation email and sends it over to her.

**I’ll come to get you when you land.  Just come, please.**

No reply hits his phone, and Ben knows one of two things could happen.  She doesn’t show, or she does.

Only time would tell which she chose.

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It took two months for her to come to terms with wanting Ben back.

The feelings of longing came the day after the breakup, Rey smashing them down with a harsh fist so she could continue on with her life.  But instead of leaving, resigning off to their own ways, they stayed.

They haunted, in small but gut-wrenching forms.  Giving a (dispassionate, there was no other way she did them now) lap dance to a man who wore the same Atelier Clémentine that Ben did.  It smelled wrong on other people, even worse on someone who had been leering at her with a wedding ring on his finger. It was also seeing Ben in everyone, anyone who towered over her and had dark hair echoed.  Missing blazers thrown over chairs, late night walks, fucking more than actually going on dates.

Even if she was wary, he never stepped down from the challenge of dating her.  Abandonment issues and all, Rey was a hard thing to be in a relationship with. Told to her many times before, she was just preserving Ben by not being with him.  Right? Wrong. Being without Ben was becoming the worst fucking thing imaginable for her, never known to be sappy or a bleeding heart. There was no point in  _ acting  _ like she didn’t want him in her life anymore.  Self-preservation and preservation of her career go out the window, and she texts him a sappy  _ I miss you _ .

It wasn’t a lie.  Whatever did happen, Rey did miss him and he deserved to know that.  The actual break up wasn’t  _ easy, _ tearing her in half and ripping out her heart when he walked away.  Her phone vibrates immediately, as she’s brushing out the coral wig affixed to her head.  A day shift today, fucking up her cash pull for the week.  Glancing at it, the strands of coral flick back over her shoulder.

What can he do?  Rey doesn’t know what she wants from him.  She just wants him. Answering that she doesn’t know, and reiterating she misses him, she hopes the dialogue will open.

Silence follows, she’s afraid she’s lost him.  Then her phone vibrates as she’s sliding her foot into a clear platform shoe, sheer white bodysuit on her body.  Roses bloom over the cups, and she’s delicately picking up her phone as she adjusts her shoe.

A screenshot for a plane ticket in her name to Norfolk passes through the thread.  Virginia, she’s never been before.

**Just come, please.**

It rattles around her head like a marble spinning into a hole.  Temptation creeps up the skin of her back, claws sinking until she’s standing up.  Putting the contents of her makeup bag back, she stares at the phone. Two and a half hours to make it to the airport, an hour and five flight after that.

Work didn’t matter right now, shoving her makeup bag and shoes into her dance duffle.  Jeans slide on, bodysuit still on her body and wig on her head. Rey didn’t want to rip the lace off her skin yet and it would give her the tender anonymity she needed.  Getting recognized wasn’t as  _ often _ as she thought it would be, and Rey usually left those situations easy.  There was no shame in being careful, in case someone catches wind.

Leaving out the backdoor to avoid the club manager for the night, she practically runs to her car.  Vowing to speed home, she throws her duffle bag in the passenger seat and slides into the driver's side with ease.

Thankfully she doesn’t cause an accident on the way back to her house.  Living in a house now, having to move for safety concerns after the news broke, she takes the stairs two at a time up to her room.  Finn’s in the hallway and she almost runs into him, barely dodging as she rushes into her room. Throwing her suitcase on the bed, she turns to her closet and begins pulling things she knows she can wear.   _ Appropriate _ things, jeans, and t-shirts.

Finn watches from the doorway, toothbrush held in his mouth and towel wrapped around his waist.  “Where ya headed?”

Not looking up, “Virginia.”

Practically hearing Finn’s eyes narrow, “Why?”

“Ben.”

Simple answer, she’s grabbing a pair of chucks and a pair of black stilettos.  “Does he know-”

“Yep.  Bought the ticket for me, can you feed BB while I’m gone?” Rey can’t admit to herself that she got a  _ breakup  _ dog, more that it was the house’s dog.  She just fed it, took it out, and practically did everything for it.

“Rose will remember.  You sure you wanna do this?”

Did she want to do this?  She wouldn’t know what could happen if she doesn’t try, and this could be her last chance for  _ anything _ .  Rey didn’t know what she wanted from this or whether Ben wanted the same things.

They were going to see each other though, and it’s all she needed to survive for now.  A last look at the cut of his jaw, his full lips, whiskey eyes, it’s all she’s craved. Zipping the suitcase up, making sure she at least has  _ some  _ essentials packed, “I need to.  I need...closure.”

Closure.  Whatever that closure actually became.  “I understand. Let me know if you need  _ anything _ .  I’ll drive up there in the middle of the night for you.”

Nodding, “Thank you.”

A peck on the cheek as she passes by him, rushing down the hall with a backpack and suitcase in hand.  BB, a bouncy chihuahua mix with a bark like fire, was at the dog park and didn’t have to see his practical mother leave.  Rose typically took him after Rey went to work since their shifts were always a few hours apart.

Tossing them both in the back of the car, she gets into the driver’s seat with a plan to  _ race _ .  Atlanta traffic was awful especially near the airport, she took as many shortcuts as she could take while checking the time on her car clock obsessively.

Parking her car at the airport was going to cost an arm and a leg, but she didn’t care.  Running to a ticketing machine, she prints her boarding pass and checks her bag with a rushed efficiency.  Tossing her rucksack on the whirring security belt, she strips off her hoodie and slides off her Adidas. Not caring about the sheer bodysuit or the bright coral hair piled up high on her head, she taps her foot after clearing the metal detector.  

Possessions rolling out after what seems like forever, she throws the backpack onto her back and shuffles her feet into her sneakers with fluidity.  Then she practically  _ runs  _ to the gate, rolling in with 5 minutes to spare before boarding.  

The waiting game begins then, boarding the plane and tucked up into a window seat.  Hood over her head and sunglasses to shield her eyes from the plane’s lights and prying eyes, paranoia begins to creep.

Pulling out her phone, she taps out a message.

_ I’m on the plane right now. _

Delayed from taking off  _ momentarily _ , she doesn’t know if he’ll even reply.  But her phone vibrates on her lap.

**I’ll be at the airport.  You’ll come home with me, right?**

Home.  What did that mean for him?  Swallowing anxiety, her fingers tap across the screen.

_ Yes.  I can sleep on the couch or something _ .

In his bed was the preferred option, but shaky ground laid beneath them.

**My bed is fine.**

Deep and full of relief, her lungs rock with a breath before responding.

_ You can be there too. _

Bold move.

**We can talk it out, but I’m sure I’ll find my way there.**

No doubt he would, always managing to get into her apartment and into her bed when he pleased.  Even if she went to sleep alone, she’d wake up to a vibration on her nightstand and he’d be there.  Reassuring and comforting, being wanted sent warmth throughout the tips of her fingers and toes.

The plane begins to move, and the safety briefing starts.  

_ I gotta go.  I’ll see you then. _

No reply and she’s turning off her phone per instructed.  Rey could sleep easily on planes, but she was sure sleep wouldn’t come easily.

The hour and five passes like a ticking clock, eyes boring into the back of her seat in front of her.  Barely reading the book she brought (a biography on Frank Lloyd Wright that she’s read before), her thoughts rack to memories and replay over and over.

The breakup, his pain-filled face and how his body trembled like he was going to fall apart.

Landing couldn’t have come sooner, the plane hitting the ground and steadying out on the tarmac.  Turning on her phone with quick haste, she has to wait for the plane to taxi to the gate. Two messages come up, both from Ben.  No other ones, she expected an angry call from work.

**See you then.**

**I’m at baggage claim.  What’s your bag look like?**

Thinking hard about how to describe it, she finally figures it out.

_ Black, South African flag luggage tag. _

The plane stops, and the seatbelt sign turns off.  Rey shoots up in her seat, despite the delay that the exiting traffic of the plane posed.  Rucksack slung on her shoulder, she’s impatiently tapping her foot the entire time.

Taking the opportunity to squeeze past her seatmates when someone across the aisle was taking too long, she almost jogs off the plane.  Bypassing flight attendants’ well wishes, her jog slows to a walk as she makes it to the gate. Still glancing at her phone on occasion and stopping to look at a map, she doesn’t waste any time.

Figuring out her way to baggage claim, the sneakers pad across the basic and boring tile.  Forgetting all that mattered (the fact she was still wearing a wig for one), her only focus is the baggage claim that's now in sight.  Glancing at the board for what carousel, she walks to four in hopes of finding him.

The plan doesn’t disappoint.  Ben sticks out like a sore thumb wherever he goes, always clothed in black on his days off and the biggest in the room.  iPhone held in his palm, sunglass-covered eyes bore into the screen. The amount of strides it takes to make it across the carpet is too many, stopping just before him while shrugging off her rucksack.  “Would you happen to know where Ben Organa is? I’ve been looking for him everywhere and...”

Trailing off as he looks up, unable to continue speaking as he pulls her into his arms.  No point in protesting (she wanted it), her head burrows into his chest. Intending to make a home there, his lips and nose come down to rest the top of her hood.

Hands rubbing along her slight back, divining tender skin beneath black cotton, “I assume you just came from work?”

Pulling away, Rey nods sheepishly.  “Yeah, I was...twenty minutes from going on.” Fingers combing through long coral strands as she stares up at him.  Sunglasses are pushed up to the crown of her head long ago, false eyelashes somehow still on her eyes.

“I can see that.  I like this,” Fingers coming up to pass through her hair, winding down to the tips of her hair.  Coral was a  _ happy  _ color, and Rey was sticking to happy colors.  Black was untouchable since he had left, blue banished to the back of her closet.  

“Ready to go?  We’ve gotta drive to Virginia Beach.”

Virginia Beach rang no bells for her.  “Is your house there?”

Sheepish look as they begin walking, “Parent’s vacation house.  You caught me on a three day holiday.”

Parents.  “Oh. Are they here?”

Plenty of research (Rey hates that she had to google Ben  _ post- _ blowup _ ) _ told her that the Organa-Solos were a formidable political family.  Leia Organa was the matriarch and a senator up for re-election, both of those facts  _ terrifying  _ Rey.  Han Solo seemed  _ normal  _ in comparison, going from Olympic running to coaching it across the Earth.

“Yeah.  We can avoid them.” Sounding unconvinced as they walk to the short-term parking lot.  It was probably better that they did avoid them, given that Rey could’ve just single-handedly fucked their campaign to pieces.  He’s carrying her bag for her, in one easy grip like Rey hadn’t almost killed herself getting it down the stairs of her house. The trunk pops on a Mercedes SUV, and she glances him up and down.  

“I practiced law for about 7 years before the campaign.”  That explains the car and the dollar signs her eyes seemed to paper all over it.  

“I didn’t know that.  I thought you just passed the bar.”

“I don’t talk about it a lot, but yeah.  Money wasn’t worth it in the end.”

Cryptic, but the trunk is closing and she’s staring at him still.  His eyebrows furrowing, “So.”

Knowing he’s not one for many words, she decides to take the lead for him.  “I miss you,” Reiterated until it sunk in so they could figure out some way to compromise.  His mouth opens before closing again and she moves to get in the car. Pulling open the door, she climbs into the luxurious cab.  Black leather and black paneled, it reads him all over it. Getting in next to her, the car turns on with a simple push to start.

Purring engine, she practically melts into the seat.  Green eyes flit to look out the window, “I don’t want to lose you again.”

Slowly blinking before looking back over him, she watches him back out of the parking space.  “I don’t say that. I try not to get attached to people but you’ve managed to crawl under my skin and not leave.”

She’s akin to a  _ parasite _ , her lips downturn into a frown.  “I don’t want you to leave. Whatever it takes to keep you here, I’ll do it.”

Serious as he says it, pushing his card into the parking machine.  Lip bit, she takes a deep breath, “Is the hatred from the public always that bad?”

Derailment, but its a genuine question.  Looking back at her, the gate rises before the car, “I’ve been called racial slurs on Twitter.  You’re never going to go through this again. I promised whatever it takes and I mean it.”

“I’m hard to please-”

“I won’t stop trying to please you.”

Honesty was his policy always, and she’s glad to see that hasn’t changed.  Ben Organa-Solo had his moral compass, even though hers had been smashed long ago.  “Why do you want this?”

A question she’s asked herself many times.  Why would she crave so badly, even if it burned her?

“I don’t feel right about a lot of things, but I feel right about you.”

_ Feel right about you _ , it takes its time to bounce around her head like a ball in a pinball machine.  “What do you want from me?”

Clarity needed on his end, she’s not a mind reader.  “Just you. Whatever you want to give me, everything else can fall into place later.”

_ Later _ , a breath of relief into the tension-filled air.  “I’m still worried.”

An admission.  Afraid of love, barbs to the back, harsh opinions, she had spent the last two months in perpetual hell.  “You’re allowed that feeling, especially after all of this.” Sinking feelings, the feeling of inadequacy.

“You’ll never be what they say you are, you’re more than that.”  Looking over again, she can watch his jaw work over.

It’s as hard for him as for her, “Will you come back to Georgia?”

Bartering, she understands if he needs his space away from her.  It can still work with space between, Rey would make it work. “When everything ramps down, I’ll be moving back.”

Ramp down meaning when the election ended.  “What will you do after?”

His head shakes to himself and he shrugs, “I don't know.  Haven’t gotten that far.”

That far, like it was deep in the future.  His free hand comes and settles on the console between them.  Rey doesn’t hesitate taking it in hers, fingers winding together and relishing the feel once again.  “I’m certain I want you around. We can work on that.”

Work on it, like it was some kind of project.  They both seemed to be projects in their own right, works in progress begging for completion from the right person.  Only holding his hand, she lets the silence settle between them while she thinks. It would take work, it would take time to feel safe in his world again.  But she wanted to believe he would protect her, field the criticism as much as he realistically could.

Virginia is greener than she thought, the two-way highway seeming like a straight shot.  The rest of the drive passes quickly, Rey taking the time to begin peeling the wig off of her head.  Trying not to wince when it rips out some tiny baby hairs, she tosses it in the backseat with the wig cap.  Natural brunette hair is let loose from its tight bun, waving to her shoulders and she’s shaking it out like a wet dog.

“My father will certainly like you.”

Leaning back in the seat, she can’t help a snort, “What about your mother?”  That was the real concern here, the person who was collateral damage for their trysts.  

Hesitating, “She’ll come around.”  Positive that she wouldn’t, she’s zipping up the hoodie to preserve some sort of modesty.  Thankfully her backpack between her legs has a makeup wipe, taking the time to wipe the heavy makeup off her face.  It was to make her unrecognizable, working well in the dark club and back rooms.

They’re in a  _ gated _ neighborhood anyways, the houses looking more like castles than homes.  Ben’s world was very different from hers, shiny white picket fences and pinched faces walking tiny dogs.  The car turns into an immaculately paved driveway, white garage door opening up with a rumble.

“It’s a straight shot through the kitchen and up the stairs to my bedroom.”  Warning her, he obviously didn’t want to confront his parents.

With a deep and anxious breath, “Okay.”

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Having Rey in his car was a dream come to fruition after two months of waiting.  A dream he didn’t think would actually come true, she’s nervous in his  _ parent’s _ garage in his car.

No use in really delaying the natural process (he really hopes his mother and father are somewhere else in the house), he turns off the car and clicks the garage button.  Door rumbling closed behind them. Rey’s still holding his hand, and he doesn’t attempt to untangle.

Instead, he leans over the console to let his lips flutter along her temple, then the hollow of her cheek.  “I’ve got your back. No matter what.” His hand stroking through the back of her brunette hair, it feels downy through the card of his fingers.  He leans away, getting out of the car.

Circling to open her door first, she delicately gets out of the car as he goes to get her suitcase.  Bags obtained and the trunk closed, they meander their way inside. He walks first into the immaculately clean white kitchen, the accents of china blue and white backsplash gleaming beneath the light.

They’re almost through to the other side when he hears a throat clear.  “Hello, Ben.” Stopping in his tracks, he sees Rey’s already stopped to stare at Leia Organa and Han Solo.  Perched at the eat-in nook, Leia’s swirling a glass of red wine while Han pours a scotch. Typical for them, he swallows.

“Hey...” Trailing off awkwardly, he just wants to shove Rey behind him and act as if she were invisible.  Too late for that now, under his mother’s speculation.

“You must be Rey.” Molasses tinted eyes flicker to her, hoping she’s not  _ completely  _ freaked out.  There are hints of it, how her breath is held and a nod takes over her head.  Ben wants to defend her, to tell them all about how she makes him feel.

Instead, his throat is dry and he’s a seventeen-year-old kid again, unable to really  _ articulate _ what’s racing through his head.  “Do you two want a drink? There’s food in the fridge also.” Leia glides to the kitchen island, the unfamiliar clink of a wedding ring against the granite.  His mother didn’t wear it on the trail, and he wondered why the change.

_ Appearances, Ben.  All appearances. _

Shaking his head to himself, he holds up Rey’s bag.  “We’re fine-”

“What about you Rey?  White or red?” Leia did this often, giving no one the option for escape with  _ kindness.   _ Transparent as the sea glass that is mounted in the kitchen, Ben can’t help but glare at his mother.  The glare then wheels to his father, who’s drinking scotch like the room doesn’t have a thick enough tension to choke.

“Red is fine.” That was typical of Rey, blood red wine and blood red lingerie highlighting date two.  Ben sets down the bag, moving to sit at the breakfast table with his father. Figuring he might as well  _ attempt  _ to be pleasant, he’s observing Rey and his mother like a hawk.  Pouring wine into a stemless glass, Leia is watching her like a shark.

“You look different in person.” Worst nightmare coming true, Ben can only sit and watch as the stemless glass is handed to a speechless Rey.

Clicking her tongue, Leia turns and glides back to the table.  “I like it. Have you lived anywhere besides Atlanta?” Ben didn’t know why Leia was asking this, obviously knowing them from the digging she had done on Rey at his request.  No trace of her parents had been found yet, but Leia Organa knew almost everything about the girl. Maybe not one of his brightest ideas, giving his mother the keys to the castle that was Rey.  No moat could protect Rey’s stomach from the spears shucked by Leia. Obviously out of her element, Rey’s blinking owlishly as she walks to the table. Sitting down, “Yeah, I was raised in Texas.  Born in South Africa.” Hoping Rey drains her glass as quick as he can, he swallows the lump in his throat.

“I coached in South Africa about 6 months ago.  Some real talent down there, their Olympic team is shaping up well.”  It always had to be the Olympics with Han Solo, brooding eyes now wheeling to glare at his father.

Another sip of wine and a straightening of her hoodie, “Oh, that’s nice.  I don’t really remember it.” It stings, obvious in her tone and her bit lower lip.  Another glance at his mother,  _ dig harder _ unspoken under his scrutiny.

“Do you vote left or right?” Rey chokes on her wine and Ben begins to rise.  

“It’s a valid question-”

“It’s none of your business.  She’s uninvolved.” Rey didn’t even vote the year prior (it intensely bothered him but she was fiercely independent), the question having no validity.

Sipping her wine with incredulity, “It becomes my concern when CNN has her plastered under campaign headlines.” He’s had enough and steps away from the table to collect the suitcase off the floor.

“You can talk to her when you’re better behaved.  Come on Rey.” Not glancing back at her, he adjusts the suitcase in his grip.

“Better behaved?” Raised eyebrows as she speaks it, he feels none of her intended intimidation.

“I understand you’re upset, but we all need to cool off before we all actually speak to each other.” A firm voice on, he’s hoping he doesn’t sound like a scared little boy.  Hearing Rey rise, his shoulders tense.

“Fine.  I’ll see you at breakfast.” Terse, he knows he’s never going to hear the end of this.  Instead, he glances back at Rey, who’s following him with the wine glass in her hand. Looking as if she had done something wrong, he only turns back forward and heads towards the comfortable confines of his room.

A short walk, he pushes the door open to reveal a pale color scheme so contrary to his usual deeps and darks.  Beachiness radiated through the room and he swears it even smells like sand and tide when he steps in after a long day.  Suitcase heaved onto the white ottoman at the foot of the bed, he’s turning and reaching around Rey to push the door shut behind her.  

Looking around the room, he watches her walk to the bed with a slow shuffle, unlike her usual confident gait.  She’s sitting so primly and he can’t help but fiddle with the watch on his wrist. Nervous ticks presenting like ghosts in a graveyard, he hopes she doesn’t notice the fourth card of his hair in the last five minutes.

“I like it.”

Of course she likes the room and he leans against the dresser with a release of breath.  Determined not to advance too fast, he wants Rey to let him know when she wants him. “I’m glad.  Not my taste.” Wrinkling his nose as he glances around, he walks to the curtains. Media’s cruel slap had him paranoid, never letting window panes get a peek of him for long.  Especially not with Rey, pulling the curtains on the French doors out onto the balcony.

“You don’t like the light, I’ve noticed.” Unzipping her hoodie, white bodysuit bared for him.  Tan skin seen through the lattice of lace, he wishes the roses across the cups were absent.

Laying back on the bed and guiding delicate hands to the button of her jeans, “Let me do that.”  Out of his mouth, before he could stop it, he regrets saying it as he averts his eyes. Hands stopping, she smooths along her hips in the corner of his eye.  

“Okay.  Come do it then.”

Unexpected, his head whips to gaze upon her again.  Seriousness playing on her face, she leans back on her elbows.  Looking just like a lioness waiting for dinner, he can’t help but cross the light wood floor.  Knees hitting the wood, tender and careful hands reach down and work over the blue denim. Unclasping the button, he watches the tiny flutter of her stomach beneath the sheerness.  

“I missed you.”

Eyes locking, it's obvious she said it as her lower lip is dragged between her canines.  Her teeth are gnawing at it, he has to sate her.

“I’m sure I missed you more.”  Leaning down and kissing just under her belly button, he begins to roll the denim off of her skin.  Thighs bared to him, then smooth calves and her jeans are tossed behind him with little care. Lips following the line of her stomach, he skirts light kisses along the inside of her thigh.

“Are you okay with this?”

Nervousness making itself known, Ben swears there are 4 long pendulum swings before, “Yes.”

Tender hands ruffling through fluffy and inky hair, he wonders if this was how cats felt being pet by their owner.  Rey’s the only thing he can call to mind as he breathes her in, nose close to rubbing along the gusset of the bodysuit.  

“I only want to make you happy.”  Whispered into the quiet of the room, he knows his words stick like darts in a dartboard at her small intake of breath.  Making people happy was his specialty, proving true as he unclips the bodysuit. Panties come off, sheer white fabric sliding with it.

He’s forgotten how much he loves her body, the memory of it burned out of his mind.  Remembering was painful, and the payoff of it makes it all worth it. Large hands grab contrasting lithe hips and pull her even closer to the edge of the bed.  A giggle passes her lips and another dies in her throat as his hands push her thighs (they had, unfortunately, flopped close) apart. Shaky breath leaving his lungs, she looks as pretty as he remembers.

“You still taste good?”  Not a question, more of an expectation as he adjusts her hips to bring her even closer to his mouth.

“Why don’t you-” Beginning her retort but cut short by his tongue painting a harsh stripe up her folds, feeling an almost instant rush of blood run to his cock.  Fingers feeling almost electric, they dig into the smoothness of her thighs to hold her in place. She tended to writhe after all and he actually wants to enjoy his meal, slow licks punctuating the want.  It’s quiet and what he’s been needing, the angry and depressed hum in his brain beginning to quiet down.  _ You have her, you have her right here and she’ll stay right here _ .

Tender fingers come to rub her clit, tiny circles as the flick of his tongue quickens.  Rey might even want to stay too, based on how she pulls on his hair enough to get his neck to almost straighten.  Discomfort only heightens the pleasure, tongue dipping inside of her and committing the taste to memory.

He’s willing to go until his jaw no longer works, but her grip pulling his head up distracts him enough.  “Get on top.” Eyebrows shooting up, her face shows she’s not to be argued with on this. Rising up to stand, there’s a slowness in his limbs as he tries to determine what’s going through her head.  The t-shirt is unneeded and stifling now. Hooking the fabric along with his movement, he pushes the fabric up and off his body. Taking the opportunity to push his jeans off his legs, the silent trepidation is fucking with his head.

Rey’s smirk as he does gives him enough of a kick in the ass to actually pay attention, Rey laying up against the pillows like a princess would.  Leaning down and crawling across the sheets, his body engulfs her. The break up had been good for his gym time at least, making him look even a little bigger than the last time she saw him.

Spine bends and soft lips press against the plane of hard muscle, each one getting a kiss as he watches on.  “I missed these.” Digging her palms into his muscled sides, one would believe this as worship. The only one being worshipped was Rey as opposed to the contrary, his lips pressing against her pulse along her throat.

“I missed  _ you _ .”  A solid retort, he can feel the blush almost bloom across her cheeks.  Sparing her, his hand pushes between their bodies to cup her sex. Soaked and nearly dripping, the pleased growl in his throat struggles to be contained.  This was about Rey, loving Rey and showing he can  _ take care of her _ .

Breathy moan leaving her lips, he pulls his hand away to adjust his wrist.  Without much more preamble than that, his index finger pushes inside of her with a tiny bit of a stretch.  Taking it with a small whine, he can tell she feels  _ empty _ fluttering around him.  It’s been too long since he’s been inside of her and it only makes him pick up the pace with his deep thrusts up to his knuckle.

A second finger and she’s mouthing against his shoulder until teeth sink.  It fuels the creep of pleasure up his spine, his wrist twisting with each thrust of his fingers.  A third and he doesn’t want her to come apart on only his fingers, even though she seemed like she would deeply enjoy it right now.

Edging his fingers out of her, they come between them so he can lick them clean.  Hazy and almost drunk jade eyes gaze up at him, shuddering breaths leaving her lungs.  Craning his neck, her hands slip behind it to pull him even closer to kiss him.

Pink lips part, “please.”

Her little whine as she says it gnaws at the base of his primal brain and almost makes his hips buck.  Holding off, he instead leans on his elbow while his other hand goes to position at her entrance. Nails claw at his shoulder blades, breathing a silent  _ hurry up _ into the air.  

Not looking to displease or to keep her waiting, it’s a quick thrust and he  _ sinks _ into her.  Seeing the slight sting reflected in her features, she takes it as like champ.  Unsurprisingly, she goes beyond by bracing her knees on either side of his body so it feels deeper.

She’s tighter than he remembers, but he had banished every memory of her away until nothing was left.  Break-up Rey and real Rey were beginning their mesh again, weaving tightly together to make one beautiful culmination that was moaning beneath every thrust.  Unspooling together, it’s how this was originally supposed to go. Not like it had, all the hurt trampling them down.

“Stay with me.”

Leaving his lips with a slight desperation as the knot in his stomach tightens even more.  Ben wants her to stay, to be with him until he was rotting in the ground. Unable to really say the extent of  _ that  _ yet (marriage was a commitment he knew he was certainly not ready for), he can’t help but actually dream about it.

“Okay.”

Bit through pleasure, she seems to really mean it as her nails dig deeper into his skin.  The marks would show his mother enough about his commitment to making this better for  _ Rey  _ and would probably spur his cock for days to come.  “Good. I’ll protect you. No one will talk about you when I’m here.”

Practically throwing his talisman out a car window at her, he thrusts even deeper as she furiously nods her head.  “Please protect me.” Begging, he wants to tell her that it’s not an offer. It would happen whether she wanted it or not.  Rey was one of the greatest things that had wandered into his life and he wanted to keep her there for as long as he could.

Protecting the ones you cared for was non-negotiable and he was willing to wade through pits of burning lava for her.  Most didn’t even get a ride home, let alone Ben Organa-Solo’s undeniable affection and attention.

Or his mouth clamping down on their neck as he spills into them, Rey whimpering and twitching around him as he groans.  

They’re both dizzy, high on each other as they come back to the earth and to where they  _ were _ .  Tangled up on his bed in his parent’s vacation home, a room that she was perceived to not belong in, wasn’t the worst place to be.

Nor was having her in his arms.

“You meant all of that, right?” Spoken into tender silence, he pulls her closer to his chest.

“Of course I did.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i'm typing out this author's note in the middle of a lecture or i would be crying. this has been a beautiful and amazing thing to write and to show you guys, and all good things must come to an end.
> 
> sex workers deserve happiness, positivity, and respect in contrary to popular narrative in this fandom and in the world. the topic of sex work also deserves the same from writers. thank you for allowing me to push that idea to you guys.
> 
> thank you to [Moriah](https://the-little-momaid.tumblr.com/) for the lovely beta (and her keysmashes along the way). thoughts and feelings are always welcome @ [dankobah](https://dankobah.tumblr.com/)
> 
> chapter title is inspired by "Pretty Little Birds" by SZA
> 
> [fashion references](https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1DrtaJiHfR8xLHaPtYduxKJSVQaBotoXc?usp=sharing)


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